The day after… part 1

Drunk and naked with lipstick all over my face… I woke up this morning. Atleast I had the sense to sleep on my bed rather than in some awkward posture on the couch as I would have done otherwise. By body hurts with the constant abuse, my head hurts with hang over and my soul hurts with the stench of yet another break down.

When will I be strong enough? When will I stop? When will I stick to hope after having pulled myself out of this rut? When when When?

I push aside these nagging questions and sit up. I dread to think of the condition my house will be in. I vaguely remember last night. The drinking, crying, desperation. The disgust of what all I could have done fills me up even as I scroll through my phone and realise the damage isn’t too bad. I guess I wasn’t desperate enough or stupid enough. Maybe I was but I stopped myself. The last thoughts brings a smile to my face despite everything else.

I’m writing this post to give myself time. Time to recoup and get prepared to face myself in the mirror, to see the condition of my house, to accept that I failed… yet again.

Thank you once again… to those who liked and commented on my post last night. Reaching out here was my desperate alternate to doing something irrational and crazy. You have no idea what your messages meant. Thank you.

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